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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444851">Empire of Deceit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/insibbegerest/pseuds/thebureauisclosed'>thebureauisclosed (insibbegerest)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Politics, a Romeo and Juliet kind of a situation I guess, court intrigue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:40:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/insibbegerest/pseuds/thebureauisclosed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Their Dens have been waging a secret war against each other for longer than anyone can remember, so of course Caleb and Essek are, and always will be, enemies. It would be foolish to believe they might ever build a relationship built on anything other than hatred, mistrust and antipathy.<br/>...or would it?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue – Friendship that has survived centuries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The setting for this is a weird mix of Matt's wonderful canon and my own bullshit. Sorry, Matthew.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The prologue is basically just Lore 101 with ADHD icon Eodwulf, but I promise Caleb and Essek will show up in the next chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Our Dens are connected by a friendship that has survived centuries…"</p>
<p>Although the meeting had begun mere minutes go, Eodwulf was already itching to stand up and leave. There was little more absurd than celebrating a so-called friendship of Dens that would happily slaughter each other for a hundred coins.</p>
<p>Alright, that might have been an overreaction, some of the Dens did have relationships that could almost be considered good. Mirimm and Thelyss, two of the most powerful Dens, were full of known bootlickers who would utilise any possibility to creep further into Den Kryn's favour. Biylan and Icozrin have bonded over their position as Dens with good enough blood that most Xhorhasians held them in high regard, but not enough power to have that regard manifest itself in any way that would actually matter. Nobody liked Den Olios who weren't Xhorhasian enough for the drows and goblins, but were too Xhorhasian for anybody else. On the other hand, nobody saw them as important enough to waste their hatred on them, so the Olios were relatively safe.</p>
<p>Den Cobalt had joined the ranks of nobility shortly after the annexation. Unlike the Xhorhasian dens, which were mostly based on blood, one had to be formally accepted into Den Cobalt. Appointing a Den consisting of natives of what used to be the Dwendalian Empire was a smart move; this way, the Queen could keep her one-time enemies close as well as pretend she cared about her western subjects because <em>of course she did, who cares about the thousands she murdered and keeps exploiting as long as she lets a chosen few dine on golden plates.</em></p>
<p>As for Eodwulf's own Den, well. That was a funny story.</p>
<p>If there was one thing that people of Rosohna hated more than sunlight, it would be the Zemnians. Eodwulf found it hard to blame them seeing as until recently, the most prominent figure of Zemnian descent in Xhorhas was <em>das alte Arschloch</em> himself, Trent Ikithon, may devils bite his stinky soul. Decades before Herr Arschloch was born however, another Zemnian had vexed the Kryn as a thorn in their side. Their name was Islind.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>"Well hello there, pretty lady!" Islind started waving at the Kryn woman with such intensity they nearly toppled over and fell from the tree branch. "Got a few minutes?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Not for you, scum," the woman replied coolly. She was on horseback, dressed in a beautiful velvet gown of midnight black.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I'll play a song for you. You don't even have to pay if you don't like it," Islind insisted. "But you are going to like it because I am the best musician far and… oowwww, shit!!" Thankfully they had not been seated too high, but the fall still must have been painful. They landed on the ground right in front of the beautiful drow lady and her beautiful mare.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The woman cursed in Undercommon, halted her horse and frowned at the bard at her feet. "You're in my way, idiot."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I've never fallen off that branch before, it must be destiny, my lady! What may I call you?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Don't call me anything, just get out of my way."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Ah but you have such pretty eyes and such a lovely face, surely you must let me play for you. Please?" Islind scrambled to their feet and winked at the woman.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Oh Luxon." This bard was annoying, ugly and clumsy, yet for reasons unknown even to herself the drow relented. She expected nothing short of torturous noise to come from someone with such a whiny voice and a mandolin in such a lamentable state, though. "Get on with it, then."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Islind's face brightened up and they grabbed the woman's arm in excitement. "Thank you, my lady! As I said, I will play for free… unless my music makes you cry. I charge five coppers per tear."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"If your song touches me to the point of shedding tears, you can have a half of my title," said the woman ironically and yanked out her arm from the bard's grasp. "But if you dare to touch me again, you'll have my spear instead."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I am so sorry, my lady, I keep forgetting that so many things that are the norm here are considered rude among the Kryn. But don't worry, here in the Zemni fields we have a lot of sun and water and fresh air, so we probably don't have as many contagious skin diseases."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You  – "</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Islind took a step away from the elven woman just to be safe, then they laughed and the strings of their old little mandolin began to sing a song unlike any other the drow had ever heard and would ever hear.</em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>Lady Eiras Thelyss was infamous for her heart of stone, but as Islind struck the last chord, she realised there had been tears running down her cheeks. Unbeknownst to her, Islind had charmed Eiras with a spell that had forced her to stay true to her promise. The shame had nearly eaten her alive, but she had yielded the tiniest part of her land to Islind and the Queen had to sanctify the birth of a new Den, however weak and poor.</p>
<p>Islind's Den had officially named themselves Den Volstrucker. When asked, Islind claimed they simply liked the sound of the word, but it was no secret that some of Islind's little found family were descendants of the real Volstrucker – soldiers, who had eliminated a significant number of Kryn fighters during the war.</p>
<p>While the other Dens had to formally accept the existence of Den Volstrucker, they had never started taking them seriously and never stopped seeking ways to dispose of them for good. Eodwulf would not consider himself a history expert, but he had read somewhere that Islind died under mysterious circumstances a decade after the Den had been established. Within several months, lady Thelyss had passed away as well and no one was able to explain what had happened. And from there, the body count would only grow, but no one had ever been able to catch neither a Thelyss nor a Volstrucker in the act. Accidents kept happening, people kept disappearing, money kept being displaced, but as long as nobody could present any concrete proof, the Queen was happy to turn a blind eye to the secret war between the two Dens.</p>
<p>"…and I would like to congratulate lord and lady Biylan on the new addition to their family…"</p>
<p>Gods, was the buffoon from Den Mirimm still talking? Eodwulf took a quick look around the hall. Lord Biylan was beaming with pride, Demid Sunlash was pretending to be paying attention but Eodwulf noticed him covertly doodling something in his journal and Verin Thelyss of course was devouring the goblin's every word and nodding to himself solemnly. Eodwulf did not recognise the other attendants, but most of them behaved like Demid; feigning an interest in all this bullshit while secretly wondering what kind of dinner their servants would prepare for them.</p>
<p>There was nothing remotely interesting on the agenda that day, which was why barely anyone influential was present; the one exception would be Verin Thelyss who apparently felt the need to be everywhere. Other than him, they were all a bunch of glorified valets and unpopular cousins… and then Eodwulf, who could hardly pay attention to any monologue longer than three sentences and who had strict instructions from Astrid to avoid speaking to anyone lest he might accidentally start another war.</p>
<p>Eodwulf sighed and rolled his eyes. This would be a long evening.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1 – A game of Twyll</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Herr Thelyss, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Caleb Widogast and I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance."</p><p>If you asked Essek, being a part of one of the Big Eight Dens consisted of nothing but meetings, proceedings and looking for ways to make one's Den appear more powerful and ostentatious than all the others. He was annoyed by how much of his precious time had to be sacrificed to tedious social events that only served to show off in front of the Queen and her pawns. However, Essek had always been a pragmatic person. While he found no enjoyment in social interactions with snotty strangers, there were some aspects to this whole ludicrous charade that he could take advantage of; one of them was being able to observe people's behaviours, trying to spot all their little quirks and weaknesses and storing them in his mind for later use.</p><p>Another one was simply letting himself stand aside and bask in everyone’s stupidity and crimes against etiquette. And in that regard, his first proper meeting with Caleb Widogast was a field day.</p><p>Not only was it impolite to address a stranger from another Den by a foreign title, but this young man had also taken a bow so low it could easily be seen as mockery. Well, Essek wasn't sure if he should think of this Caleb Widogast as a young man or just a boy; the human's chin and cheeks were already covered by a red stubble (yet another faux-pas, Essek noted gleefully – humans and halflings were supposed to be clean-shaven at formal events), but his voice gave away his youth. If Essek were to guess, he'd say the two of them were of a similar age.</p><p>Essek returned the bow and smiled politely. "The pleasure is mine, Herr Widogast. I hope you are enjoying yourself?" The Queen organised soirees such as this one nearly every month under the pretence of giving Den members a chance to make friends and have fun in each other's company. In reality, Essek was fairly sure that about a half of the attendants were Queen's people spying on everyone's conversations.</p><p>"Oh ja, certainly, I am having a… blast," Widogast responded, but he could not seem more out of place. His hair was a mess, his clothing nice but somewhat wrinkled and his Zemnian accent so thick that Essek had to listen carefully to be sure he understood him correctly.</p><p>And despite his best attempts, Essek could not look away from Widogast's eyes. He wasn't sure if he was more hypnotised by the sadness hiding in their depths or their unusual blue colour, but he found himself staring. Finally, Essek cleared his throat and dropped his gaze a bit. "I am happy to hear that. Is this your first time attending? I don't believe I have seen you in the Queen's Gardens before."</p><p>Widogast nodded. "You are correct. It is usually Astrid who handles mingling and talking and, ah, all of this fancy business, but… unfortunately she could not come today, so she sent me in her stead. Honestly, socialising in not one of my strong suites, so I have been spending most of the evening nodding, smiling, sipping wine and trying not to accidentally insult anybody. I might not be doing the best job at that, but I have to admit the wine is delicious."</p><p>That startled a laugh out of Essek. Widogast apparently had no idea how to act among nobility – technically he was part of a high Den as well, but everybody knew that <em>Den Volstrucker </em>was nothing but a laughing stock – yet Essek found it refreshing, perhaps even strangely charming. "It might taste heavenly, but if you're not careful, it will cause you the most terrible headache tomorrow. Believe me, I have been there."</p><p>"Do not worry, Herr Thelyss, I am always careful. Uh, if I may… I actually wanted to ask a little favour of you."</p><p>Well wasn't this getting interesting. Were he not so curious, he might have laughed at the irony of one of the Volstrucker seeking favours with a Thelyss of all people. "Oh, really? How may I help you then?"</p><p>"Word is you have one of the sharpest minds in Rosohna. I was wondering… well, this is kind of silly, but I have never played a game of Twyll before and whenever I mention it, people look at me as if I just told them I couldn't read. From what I have heard, it is a difficult strategic game favoured in most Dens. I have a love for logic puzzles and I believe one should always learn from the best. I hoped you might be kind enough to show me the basics of the game so that I don't feel like such a fool the next time someone challenges me."</p><p>Essek was well aware he would more likely find a diamond in a beggar's pocket than a speck of honesty in the Queen's Gardens. Not knowing how to play Twyll truly was not something you should pride yourself on in front of any educated person, but if Widogast wanted to learn, he could have simply bought a book about Twyll or taken lessons from literally anybody whose Den would rather not see all Volstrucker dead and forgotten to history. "Of course, I would not mind at all. Will you be attending the Den Meeting that takes place in… five days, I believe? I can arrive a few hours earlier and we can meet at the Lucid Bastion entrance, if you wish."</p><p>"Yes, that sounds wonderful. Thank you so much, I truly appreciate it," said Widogast with a small smile. He bowed again, this time more or less properly. "Now please excuse me, I have some more mingling and wine drinking to do around here. I wish you a pleasant evening."</p><p>Anyone watching would think him insane for respecting a custom of the Old Empire, but Essek extended his right hand and let Widogast shake it. He did not trust the Volstrucker one bit, but he could not deny he was looking forward to the delightful disaster that would be their next meeting. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but the satisfaction brought it back, after all.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Despite his alleged love for games and puzzles, Caleb Widogast was not a very good student. Far from the worst Essek had seen, yes, but also very far from the best.</p><p>Every Kryn knew Volstrucker to be a bunch of barbarians who had shit for honour and never could steer too far from the sins of their predecessors. Widogast had left a somewhat awkward first impression, but Essek was not about to write him off as a harmless simpleton and made sure to pay close attention to anything his opponent did or said. While Essek realised that the history of his own Den was no less bloody and that there were two sides to every story... did it truly matter how many sides the story had if it would always speak of the various ways in which the Volstrucker and the Thelyss would deceive and hurt and murder each other, all while hiding behind the Queen's skirts and keeping up a laughable façade of peace?</p><p>Therefore, however unremarkable Caleb Widogast might have seemed, Essek was not going to make the mistake of letting his guard down around him for a split second.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>"Are you cold?"</p><p>"Sorry?"</p><p>"I've noticed that you never let me remove your coat. It's not a problem for me to change the temperature of the room if – "</p><p>"Oh! No, no, I am perfectly fine, thank you."</p><p>Essek raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"It's a – it's more of an aesthetic choice. Um." Widogast self-consciously pulled on one of the loose threads his coat had to offer and considered his next words. Although their Twyll lessons took about three hours each, there was usually not much word exchange going on between the two of them. When they weren't busy playing, whatever small talk they led was slow and carefully void of meaning. The silence hanging between them in that particular moment undoubtedly was Widogast figuring out how much of an answer he could give to keep the fragile balance of staying polite and revealing as little as possible of his thoughts.</p><p>He seemed to have made his choice as he took off his unflattering coat and draped it over his chair. Essek's eyes, presented with the sight of two pale arms completely covered in bandages, widened slightly. There was no blood seeping through and he surely would have noticed had Widogast had any sort of issues with movement, so whatever was hiding underneath the fabric could not have been a fresh wound.</p><p>Of course, Essek did not say anything.</p><p>"You're not going to ask?" said Widogast.</p><p>"You don't appear to be in pain and I didn't want to pry, so…"</p><p>Widogast smirked. "I see. Picture of the perfect gentleman, as always."</p><p>"I try to be," said Essek, mirroring his smirk and acting as though Widogast's sarcastic words were absolutely meant as a heartfelt compliment.</p><p>Essek played his Spy figure, finishing and winning their first game of the day. If only real life were more like this game of Twyll, so that he could successfully peek underneath Widogast's mask and get some answers instead of getting buried in more and more questions with each passing hour.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>He and his opponent had been meeting approximately once a fortnight and in spite of the silence that tended to accompany their games, Essek believed he had moved several steps closer to decoding the enigma that was Caleb Widogast.</p><p>Widogast's understanding of Twyll had not yet reached a level he could be proud of – at least not outwardly. However, Essek's eyes had not missed the few occasions where Widogast effortlessly played a brilliant move only to completely ruin whatever giant advantage it could have given him in his next turn. Another thing that had not escaped his attention was how Widogast's thick Zemnian accent had been gradually fading away. Considering his current stay in Rosohna, it would make sense had he picked up a vaguely Kryn-sounding accent, but the way he talked sounded much more like basic Imperial Common with elements of Zemnian to it.</p><p>However, those details paled in comparison to what Essek learned during their eighth session. Their game had almost reached its end by then. Widogast was about to move his Assassin figure to fight one of Essek's Civilians, but his hand slipped. The Assassin rolled down the table.</p><p>The figures were beautiful, hand-made of blue glass. Essek wasn't sure if Mending them would leave cracks in the glass, but he hoped not. This was Den Mother's favourite set and she would not be pleased.</p><p>He was not meant to find out. The Assassin hovered a few inches above the ground, right below Widogast's open palm. Within a second, the figure was safe in Widogast's grasp again, but Essek knew what he saw.</p><p>"Nice reflexes there, you've bought yourself some time. If you had lost the Assassin, I could have defeated you in two turns instead of four." Essek paused. "By the way, you've never mentioned you were a spellcaster."</p><p>Widogast slowly, carefully placed the figure back in its field. His gaze met Essek's. "You've never asked."</p><p>Essek tsked. "Oh please, such a cliché answer from an individual smart enough to study magic? Colour me disappointed." As far as Essek knew, spells that would stop an object from falling were not in the repertoire of religious nor nature-based spellcasters, and although he had to admit Widogast possessed a strange sort of charm, Essek would earlier take all the Civilian figures from the table and eat them than believe that the man in front of him could cast using his innate power of personality.</p><p>Widogast sighed, clasping his hands together. "What do you want me to say, Shadowhand? I do know some simple spells, but calling myself a wizard in front of you would be like calling a kitten big while standing next to an elephant. I dabble a bit, but I am no expert and I did not bring it up because I did not want to embarrass myself."</p><p>"Well, I am always happy to meet a fellow magic enthusiast, no matter their skill level. And something tells me you are being too hard on yourself. Modesty is a good quality to have, as I am being constantly reminded of by those who believe I suffer from a serious lack of it, but a bit of healthy confidence doesn't hurt either." Essek gave him an encouraging smile. The spell Widogast had cast was indeed simple, but his speed, lack of need of a material component and the fact Essek could hardly see his lips move as he had whispered the incantation all spoke of a certain level of experience. A dose of patronising encouragement was the last thing his fellow wizard would need, but this was all about keeping up appearances, was it not? Essek was full of bullshit and he knew that Widogast knew that, but now he also knew that Widogast was full of bullshit as well and that Widogast knew Essek knew… but what would they even be doing in Rosohna if they could not cover a pile of bullshit behind an even bigger pile of dishonest words and smiles?</p><p>Essek had a suspicion that the real game of Twyll the two of them were meant to play had barely begun.</p>
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